Locals know him as “the French Guy”. But for all intents and purposes, Regis now sees himself as a Bulgarian, having had 17 years to ponder this over. During this time, he has made about 50 friends in Dobrich, and whenever he goes for a walk, he inevitably runs into some of them. They shake hands, exchange news, maybe go for a coffee.

Originally from Pau (pronounced poh) in south-western France, Regis Palacios Prat inherited his middle name from his paternal grandfather who had fought in the Spanish Civil War (on the Republican side). Following defeat, he, along with many of his compatriots, fled the country. “They crossed the Pyrenees on foot, my grandfather clutching my infant father in his arms,” Regis says. He would continue the struggle against fascism as part of the French resistance when Germany occupied most of the country. (Unsurprisingly, one of Regis’s favourite authors is Ernest Hemingway.)

As a young man, his father in turn was conscripted into the French army. Right before his scheduled discharge in 1954, however, he was shipped off to Algeria. He later recounted how tense and agitated he and his comrades felt the whole time there, guarding the estate of a colon who had fled back to his homeland.

After training at an institute for tourism, Regis spent the next several years working in hotels in France, Germany and the UK, mostly as a cook. “I found the British to be generally friendly, especially in Scotland and Wales,” he says. He also spent a summer baking bread and picking oranges and grapefruit on a kibbutz in Israel.

Then, in keeping with family tradition, Regis got drafted. Fortunately the only fighting he engaged in was with Autobahn traffic as he chauffeured military officers about back in Germany.

Ever keen on broadening his horizons, he then joined a cruise line firm, doing circuits around the Mediterranean, Caribbean and Pacific. His favourite stopover was St Lucia, which he described as lush and green with sparkling blue waters and white-sand beaches.

He also had his share of culture shocks. “I was appalled by the grinding poverty and destitution in Haiti, Cape Verde and the Philippines.” Other moments of truth occurred in Odessa, Ukraine, then part of the Soviet Union, when he saw prostitutes, and in Seattle, Washington, when he was propositioned by a friendly woman with a prosthesis arm. It was also at this time, in 1981, that Regis first set foot on Bulgarian soil, albeit for five hours along the quayside of Varna. No one greeted him there.

With seasickness finally catching up with him, Regis traded the ship kitchen for a train station of the French Railway Company, training and serving as an assistant chief. The lives of thousands of passengers were now in his hands. Then at the suggestion of a friend, he went on home-stay exchange programme involving groups of 60 Palois and Dobrouzhanets. It had been organised by Bernal LaTude, a former resident of Dobrich. “Bulgaria at the time was quite charming, relaxed and orderly,” he recalls. This went on every summer until 1991. Then with uncertainty hanging in the air following the collapse of the old system, the programme stopped.

But not Regis. He struck out on his own, this time to Balchik. It was then that he met Alexandra. However, as she could not go to France with him, he stayed in Dobrich with her, and found work at the local language high school.

The teachers’ salary was more than adequate, as everything was ridiculously cheap back then. “Life was easy; we had a good time,” he says. Over the years, numerous other foreigners came and taught at the school: a Scottish man, an Irish woman, a German, a Texan. One of his best friends was a bloke from Horwich, near Bolton, Paul Sean Moss.

Through daily study with Alexandra, Regis soon added Bulgarian to his repertoire of French, English, German, some Spanish and a little Basque (from his paternal grandmother).

Whenever he encountered residents, they would exclaim, “You’re from France!” give him a big, hearty handshake and invite him home for a meal. “Strangers would come by our flat and give me pies or other delightful dishes,” he says. “I felt like a prince.”

Responding to a knock on his door one day, he found a young woman standing outside. “My classmate is very keen on French music and things French, and would like to meet you,” she said in halting French before stepping aside. Since then, Venislav Stoilov, now a prominent attorney, has remained one of his closest friends.

By the end of spring 1994, however, with the price of everything except his services climbing steeply, Regis felt compelled to return to France in what was to become an annual ritual: summer and winter work at resorts. In 1996, a year after his son had been born, he stayed with a friend, Daniel, a former teacher at his parents’ home in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

While there he “helped out” at an Italian restaurant. Towards the expiration of his tourist visa, the manager offered Regis a permanent position and sponsorship. “It was one of those watershed moments in life. Ultimately, my wife thought it best for the family to remain in Bulgaria, so I returned.”

In 2006, at 47, Regis once again tried his hand abroad. Paul had invited him to come and teach at a competitive school in Shanghai, where the pay was par excellence. Once again he experienced culture shock – but not so much from his hosts. “The toughest adjustment I had to make in China was with the office politics of some the North American teaching staff.”

When asked by the students where he would like to settle, Regis says he cannot clearly answer that. “Every country has its good and bad takes, whether it’s China, Bulgaria, France, Haiti, America.” To Bulgarians, he adds that their country actually had more in common with southern France than the region bordering Belgium. And like Bulgaria, many Britons have come and settled there. And where do the French like to go? “They like moving to… France. I’m an exception.”

It comes as a big surprise when he reveals which country he would definitely not want to live. “I once visited a penfriend in the French-speaking part of Switzerland. But the whole time she kept nagging me. ‘Regis, you shouldn’t have said that; did you see the look on her face? Regis, you didn’t put the toilet seat back down. When we visit my friends, you must remember to...’ After two weeks, I had had enough. I could never survive there.”

When not cooking, teaching or wandering about, Regis delves into poetry and painting. Using acrylic, oils and watercolour, he paints in bright, bold colours, in a style which he says defies any particular categorisation, though he has had many influences such as the Fauves of Matisse, the post-impressionism of Monet, Cezanne, Gauguin, van Gogh, Seurat, or the expressionism of Kirchner. And of course Picasso. As a members of Atelier 13, a local art club, he and others share insights with each other.

Regis now has hundreds of pictures to his credit, some of which have been displayed in art galleries in Dobrich and Varna, as well as on his website. He has also made a few appearances on local television.

He says his inspiration comes from a variety of sources. “As well as showing me how to mix colours and apply light and shading, my high school art instructor Monsieur Saule (pronounced sol) instilled in me a lifelong passion to paint.” In the beginning, his works consisted mostly of reproductions, portraits, subject matters based on real images done in a stylised or satirical manner, such as his rendition of the Birth of Venus by Sandro Botticelli.

For the past 15 years, Regis has been capturing whatever surfaces from his inner consciousness, usually in a figurative-abstract manner. Examples include “metallic flowers”, “crowded together in boat”, and “family trees”.

But his biggest inspiration has come from the world around him. “Every place, from Iceland to Peru to South Africa, and everyone’s a treasure trove of stories, ideas and inspirations. All of these help to create the world as I see it.”

View some of Regis’s work at freewebs.com/palacemeadow